


Wendell Abbey

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [21]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Aristocracy, F/F, Family Drama, Femslash, Revaire, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: Brielle and Verity tour the old abbey. It turns out the family living in it is almost as much of a mystery as the old house itself.
Relationships: Arland Princess/Original Character
Series: Decline and Fall [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 2





	Wendell Abbey

**Author's Note:**

> Brielle is first introduced in [The Lady in question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747670).

On their first meeting, Lady Brielle Blanchette had promised Verity that she would one day give her a tour of the old Wendell abbey's cloisters. The abbey had been empty of monastic activity for centuries, and the main building, the last original structure still intact, had been converted for private living. Duke Wendell, Brielle's uncle, had taken up residence there some years ago, under unclear circumstances. Verity thought it prudent not to ask too many questions.

The main dwelling was, in most respects, no different than any of the older estate houses in the county. The outer buildings were another matter altogether. They were ruinous, tumbledown, crawling with tangles of ivy and climbing vines. Brielle had said they made for fun climbing, and a nice quiet setting for a picnic lunch, as long as you didn't go after dark. She'd let the sentence trail off mysteriously and waited for Verity to take the bait and ask why, which Verity was bent and determined not to fall for. She'd always hated ghost stories.

But a stroll through the historic abbey, followed by a cold lunch, was much more her idea of a fun time. The more Brielle described the place to her, the more she wanted to go there.

Her companions were not so obliging. Cecily and Mhairi, the General's nieces, had very little interest in the Wendell house's history, and Verity didn't dare bring up any activity suggested by Brielle in front of Gisette. One day, she would learn why her _dear sister_ harbored such a dislike for Brielle, but she was not really brave enough to ask her outright. In order to execute their shared plan, Verity and Brielle had to wait for such an occasion as all the other ladies in residence were busy with something else, and wouldn't intervene in their plans.

So it was some time before Brielle could keep her promise.

Verity had taken to waking rather earlier than the rest of the household, and would often spend those early, quiet hours alone in the garden. Merrotayne's garden was much less impressive than Lady Elyssen's marvelous roses, but it was a pleasant place to sit. Especially in the morning, before the summer heat filled the air.

"You can sneak out the back gate," Brielle said to her privately, one night after dinner.

"Sneak out?" asked Verity. "People will wonder where I am. Unless we're back before anyone wakes, and I confess, I'm reluctant to rise quite so early in the morning, unless for travel."

"They'll be preoccupied with their own concerns, won't they?" said Brielle, her eyes gleaming. "I overheard Lady Demetria saying that one of Cecily's suitors had invited the girls over for the day, and of course she must go along to chaperon. The boys will take advantage of their mother's absence to race boats over the lake, and the General is always busy on the King's errands, anyway. That only leaves..."

Gisette. And Queen Violetta, but she was certainly much less cognizant of Verity's movements. Gisette's eyes were sharper, especially here in the country where they were obliged to spend so many hours and days in each other's company.

"There must be _something_ that can distract her," murmured Verity, lowering her voice even more.

Brielle leaned in to hear. "Didn't you say she has her own mysterious business?"

"Sometimes," said Verity with a light shrug. "I don't know what it is, so I can't predict when she'll be absent."

"Perhaps a letter will arrive that demands her immediate attention," said Brielle idly.

Verity almost laughed, but caught herself at the last moment. "I should be so lucky."

* * *

On the day in question, Verity was sitting in the garden with her book when she heard a soft knock on the back gate. She looked up, and saw Brielle standing just outside the open gate, wearing walking boots and an impish grin on her face. Verity tilted her head in question, and Brielle made a quick summoning gesture with her hand. Verity glanced down at her book, wondering whether she ought to dash back into the library and put it safely away, but she reasoned that leaving it on the garden tea-table for a morning wasn't likely to imperil it much. She set it aside and followed Brielle out the back gate, and onto a faint beaten path, winding through the brush.

It was early enough that the slanting rays of the summer sun were bright, but not warm, and when they walked deeper into the brush, the sunlight filtered through the greenery and created a tapestry of dappled light on the ground. The rustle of leaves in the wind faded into the birdsong and the drone of bees, creating a soft background hum of summer music. They climbed the gentle slope that rose from the lakeside towards the carriage road, but stopped short of it, following a footpath that ran alongside it. When they reached the top of the hill, Brielle turned her back on the lake and pointed down at the valley ahead of them.

"That's the abbey's main building there," she said, pointing out a gray stone building that seemed, from a distance, to crouch low against the ground. "The cloisters are too overgrown to see from this far."

Verity took a moment to catch her breath before replying, "It's very beautiful here."

Brielle flashed a smile, revealing her one dimpled cheek. "I've always loved spending summers on the lake. I haven't been to Wendell in years. When I first arrived, I half-thought the old ruins would be cleared for an orchard, or a carriage-house, or something like that. But, of course--" she stopped herself short and gasped.

"What is it?" asked Verity, curiosity mounting.

Brielle put a finger to her lips and pointed silently. An old tree was planted by the roadside, and in the hollow of dirt between two of its large, gnarly roots, a red squirrel was sitting, holding a pine-cone between its fore-paws. Verity held as still as she could, but some rustle or other in the brush alerted the squirrel, and it fled up the trunk of the tree, almost too fast for her to follow. Brielle sighed and took her hand, tugging on it to nudge her along the path down to Wendell's estate grounds, and Verity followed.

It wasn't until later that it occurred to her that Brielle had been about to say something quite interesting, before she interrupted herself to point out the squirrel.

She led them both down the path through brush and tall grasses, and passed through a wide gap in a dilapidated old fence, its wooden posts rotting and askew. The ruins of the cloisters stood on a low swell of land, mossy stone peeping out from the wild grass that grew hip high. A goat was grazing nearby.

"For the little cousins," Brielle explained.

She walked into the middle of the ruins and, spreading her arms out wide, fell back into the thick, tall grass with a pronounced sigh of satisfaction.

"This is it," she said. "Old Wendell Abbey's cloisters. It's a good thing we're not here after dark."

Verity gathered her skirts and sank down to sit beside her. The smell of crushed grass rose all around them, fresh and sharp and green. Above them the bright blue sky was lightly marred with wispy white clouds. Brielle turned her head and smiled at her, her one dimple showing again. She patted the grass by her side, and Verity smiled wryly and gave into temptation, collapsing back to lie in the soft grasses.

She let out her own little satisfied sigh. "I'm so glad I came here."

Brielle rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand, and said, "This is a private place. No one ever comes here."

"Because it's haunted?" asked Verity.

She laughed. "No. Just because it's old and shabby and out of the way. Most people would rather go down to the lake to sail or swim or fish. Or deeper into the hills, where there are smaller waterways, and lots of nice spots for picnics."

Verity looked this way and that. "This looks like a very nice spot for a picnic," she said earnestly.

"Next time," Brielle promised.

"I'm so glad that my _dear sister_ departed on a mysterious errand late last night," said Verity blithely. "It came quite by surprise, but a welcome one."

"Our princess is very mysterious, you might have learned," replied Brielle.

"Arland princesses are not permitted to be mysterious," said Verity, "so it's all still quite the novelty for me."

Brielle regarded her with a frown. "It must be difficult adjusting to life in Revaire. Arland sounds... very different. Do you miss it very much?"

"Sometimes," said Verity. "And some things. I miss my brother, even though we were often separated. But I was raised to marry well, and I've always known that when the time was right, I would leave Arland and never return. Adopting the ways of my new homeland is just another thing that's expected of me."

"You've done a marvelous job, if you ask me," said Brielle.

"You're too kind," replied Verity, as right and proper as she was taught, "but the differences are not so very big. I think it would be more difficult to adjust to Hise or Skalt, or even Jiyel. My great-grandmother was Revairian, after all."

Brielle perked up. "Was she really? On your mother's side, I assume?"

Verity smiled, but wryly. "No, no. It was my father's father's mother, but it was a long time ago. I don't imagine I would find any of her distant relations at court."

She trusted that Lady Brielle was clever enough to understand what she was very carefully not saying, even in this quiet, isolated place where there was no one about to overhear it. Verity had in fact adjusted to the Revairian court, quite thoroughly. She knew better than to speak of certain things openly, and she knew which subjects must be skirted. Queen Alexandria had been Revairian by birth and upbringing, but she had also been a contemporary of Princess Katyia. That alone was reason enough to be cautious.

"I suppose that means you come by your lovely curls honestly," said Brielle, in a valiant effort to redirect the conversation to safer avenues.

"Oh, yes," said Verity. "All my father's family have them, though theirs are darker in color. My brother Dion looks more and more like our father, the older he gets. I'm not sure where the color for mine came from. It's so strange, and no one in my family has it that I know of."

"I think it suits you," said Brielle.

Verity turned her head to look at her and saw that she was smiling impishly, eyes gleaming with mischief. It made a knot twist in her stomach, but in a good way. She elected not to think about it too much, but smiled back.

"I don't like everything about Revaire," she said, glancing back up at the clear blue sky, "but I'm glad I came here. If I'd stayed in Arland, I never would have learned or tried anything new."

" _I'm_ glad I managed to drag you out of that musty old house," said Brielle. "I thought you would spend all summer in the library."

"I like books," replied Verity plaintively. "They were one of my few escapes back home. And Merrotayne isn't really musty. I don't even think it's very old."

"I know," said Brielle.

Something strange in her voice made Verity turn to look at her, and she caught a fleeting shadow of an odd expression, wiped from her face almost instantly.

"I prefer the outdoors, I always have," said Brielle, once the tense moment had passed. "Books are not for me."

"When I arrived on Vail Isle," said Verity, "I was excited to visit the library. It's famous, you know. It famously has one of the most complete collections in the world, and they have rare books that can't be found anywhere else. I was only allowed to read _suitable_ books back in Arland, and I knew that there would be -- books there, that my mother and my nurses would never approve of. I read a lot of books... but I also spent a great deal more time out of doors than I ever thought I would."

Brielle was listening curiously. "I thought all matters of Vail Isle were strictly secret," she said, "yet you speak of it so openly."

Verity laughed. "No, not _all_ matters," she said. "Some of the Summit's particulars are not meant to be shared with prospective delegates, of which I doubt you are one."

Brielle shook her head vigorously, and her curls bounced, catching the light.

"And the Isle natives are secretive, that much is true," she went on. "They have their ways, and there are a thousand mysteries tied up in the Isle's history and traditions. Even with assiduous eavesdropping, I was only able to unveil a tiny handful of them."

"Oh?" asked Brielle, with obvious amusement. "Are you in the habit of listening to other people's conversations, Princess?"

"How else will I learn anything important?" replied Verity, quite reasonably she thought.

"You, Princess Verity, are a great deal more interesting than first appearances would suggest," said Brielle, the gleam sneaking back into her dark eyes.

"Yes," said Verity. "I've heard as much before."

Brielle frowned and flopped back down in the deep grass, gazing up at the sky. The sun was slowly climbing, and Verity's mind began to turn towards lunch. Despite Brielle's suggestion of a picnic, the carefully planned outing had to be deferred in favor of something more haphazard, taking advantage of Gisette's fortuitous absence. She could return to Merrotayne to eat alone, or possibly in the Queen's company, or...

"I don't know if you realize this, Lady Brielle," she opened, cautiously, "but I have yet to be introduced to your cousin, Lady Cendrile. She's been invited to dine several times, but I gather she doesn't like to be apart from her children in the evenings."

Her husband and father had also been invited, and had attended more than once. Verity found the latter to be a charming, if melancholic man, while the former had ogled her repeatedly with more vulgarity than he seemed to be aware of. The subtlety of his comments to his dinner neighbors also left little enough to the imagination. All in all, she understood why this married couple spent almost as much time apart as she did from Jarrod.

"Well, Princess," said Brielle obligingly, "if the charms of the great outdoors are beginning to fade, I would be happy to formally introduce you. Wendell Abbey is humble, but I think you'll find my cousin's bower cozy."

"I would be delighted," said Verity, "although not quite yet. Your great outdoors is peaceful. I almost think I might drift off to sleep."

Brielle laughed. "There's no reason not to. No one will suspect a thing. We're quite invisible here."

"I probably have all sorts of grasses and leaves in my hair," said Verity with a sigh. "I'll have to tidy myself up before we return to the bosom of civilized society."

"I can provide a helping hand," replied Brielle, "if you need it."

Verity laughed, feeling rather warm in the face, for no reason.

* * *

Lady Cendrile was Brielle's cousin or second cousin, Verity was not quite sure which, but any resemblance between them was superficial. Her skin was a little fairer and might have been called golden-brown, in more flattering surroundings, and she wore a rather dowdy dress of a drab yellowish color. When the elderly housemaid showed the two younger women into the bower, Cendrile was nestled deep into a low, broad armchair. She cradled a baby in her arms, and a small child was playing quietly with wooden blocks at her feet. At the sound of a cleared throat and a murmured greeting, she glanced up from her preoccupation.

"Cousin," said Lady Brielle gently, "Princess Verity has particularly requested an introduction."

"Princess--?" said Cendrile vaguely. "Not for another week, surely?" Then her eyes alighted on Verity herself, and she startled. "Oh! Your Highness! I beg pardon, sincerely."

"Not at all," said Verity hastily. "I seem to have intruded on your domestic tranquility, and for that I sincerely apologize."

Cendrile turned her eyes from Verity to Brielle, and back again.

Brielle tipped her head slightly towards Verity and murmured, "She's delighted to make your acquaintance, of course."

"Of course," repeated Verity, frowning.

"Bree, weren't you going to have a picnic with the General's girls, or something?" asked Lady Cendrile, her brow furrowing.

The small child at her feet had gathered his wooden blocks and was retreating behind the safety of the armchair. Verity, meanwhile, filed the revelation of the new nickname in her mind, for further consideration at a later date.

"Oh," said Brielle cheerfully, "I couldn't talk Cook into making me up a basket, and I didn't want to sneak into the kitchens to make one up myself."

"Whyever not?" asked Cendrile. "You've never scrupled--" At that she paused and shook her head, before turning a clearer eye on Verity and saying, "Apologies, Your Highness, I forget myself. We do not often host guests at Wendell Abbey, these days. I hope you will forgive our lacking hospitality."

She was ushered into a seat in one of the deep, soft armchairs that crowded the room, and thence the visit proceeded -- in most ways -- no different than a hundred others like it, that she had been practicing for as long as she could remember. Polite words were exchanged, and tea was brought in. Lady Cendrile asked correctly after the well-being of the Merrotayne household, and made a valiant attempt to introduce her own children to Verity. Her son was terribly shy, and her eldest daughter had been sent out to pick flowers, in the hopes that she would run out some of her excess energy.

"She usually returns in time for supper," said Lady Cendrile, frowning anxiously.

"Don't worry, cousin," replied Brielle, laying a hand on top of hers. "If she's not back in time, I'll go out and fetch her."

"Will you be staying for supper, Your Highness?" the lady asked Verity.

Verity shook her head. "I am expected back at Merrotayne for supper, or else I would have happily accepted."

It was not strictly true. She could tell that she was an imposition, and was searching her mind for every possible trick of etiquette to shorten the visit, and give the household relief. Whatever crisis the Wendell family was going through, they hid it much better than the Ajah family had done theirs. And if they were concealing their ill-fortune for similar reasons, prying too deeply into their business, even if out of sympathy, could only put both the family and Verity herself under dangerous scrutiny. Without knowing how or why, she had tripped herself into another one of the traps that littered Revaire's political landscape.

Not long later, she parted with Lady Cendrile on almost friendly terms, and with the promise that a formal invitation would soon be forthcoming. Brielle had, of course, volunteered to lead her way back home. And had, of course, chosen a route more commendable for its scenic value than for its directness. When they had rounded a bend, and the abbey's gray stone structure had disappeared behind the greenery, Brielle turned to her with an uncharacteristically somber expression.

"I wanted to thank you, Princess, for your patience with my cousin's hospitality," she said, her dark eyes shining with sincerity.

"You're most welcome," said Verity. "I would not have chosen a surprise visit if I had known what an imposition it might become."

"All the same, you were a very gracious guest, and I know Cendrile is as grateful as I am," said Brielle. "Not all women in your position would be so gracious."

She knew who she was referring to, of course. Yet another puzzle piece in the mystery of her acrimonious relationship with Gisette. Or perhaps she was referring to the royal family in general. Having been on the receiving end of grace from all four of them, Verity was passing familiar with their shortcomings. She could have said many things in reply, but she chose the simplest of all.

"I consider it my duty," she said, "to be kind, whenever I can."

"If Her Highness will permit me," said Brielle then, the gleam in her eye turning mischievous once again, "I would like to repay your kindness with a gift."

She stepped back confidently into the shade of an acacia tree, its heavy branches dipping low to make a curved hollow, hidden from the sun, and held out her hand in invitation. Verity, with more curiosity than caution for once, stepped into the shade after her.

"Close your eyes," said Brielle softly.

Verity let her eyes drift lazily shut. The dancing lights behind her eyelids gave the afternoon sunlight a dreamy cast. All around her was the smell of sweet summer blooms, and the songs of too many birds she couldn't name. Brielle's hand was warm around hers. She didn't startle when she felt Brielle's other hand grazing her cheek. Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

Her lips were very soft.

That was all Verity could think of, in the short, dark moment after Brielle pulled away and before she opened her eyes. The kiss had been all too brief, but something about the stillness of the air under the tree's canopy, and the gleam in Brielle's dark eyes, promised that it could be the first of many.

Brielle tilted her head to one side and flashed a devastating smile. "Was it a good gift?"

Not trusting her voice at that moment, Verity only nodded.

Brielle, who still held her hand captive, gave it a friendly little tug. "Come on, Princess," she said. "Let's get you back to the big house."

The rest of their walk back to Merrotayne was quiet. Verity was sunk in her own thoughts. Every so often, she would glance sidelong at Brielle, who was walking beside her, arms at her sides. Every so often, she would catch Brielle glancing back at her. What this meant, she didn't know. That the other girl liked her, she supposed. But it seemed too impossibly simple to be true.

When they arrived back in the enclosed garden, they found Mhairi and Cecily sitting under a canopy, the one with a novel and the other writing letters. The detritus of an abandoned tea setting littered the table between them.

"The ladies Kallis!" said Brielle, with an artificial brightness that seemed only too obvious. "Greetings from Wendell Abbey. I have located your misplaced princess."

"Oh, Brielle!" said Cecily, perking up immediately. "How kind of you to escort the princess home. Were you wandering the green, Your Highness?"

"I had thought to wander up that hill over there," said Verity, pointing vaguely to nowhere, "and go picking flowers. I'm afraid I got rather lost, and Lady Brielle obliged to rescue me."

"Brielle knows all the back paths around the lake," said Mhairi gravely. "You're fortunate you ran into her, Princess."

"Yes, she was very gallant," agreed Verity, matching her gravity. "Is there any tea for us to reward such gallantry?"

"I can call for more," said Cecily, and started waving her hand energetically at someone just out of sight.

Verity gathered her skirts around her with both hands and sank into one of the empty chairs. The shade of the canopy felt nice, now that the summer day was growing warm. She glanced back at Brielle, who had remained standing.

"I'm afraid I can't linger, Lady Cecily," she said.

The Kallis sisters erupted into the necessary objections, but Verity left them to it. She had a fair idea of why Brielle was in a rush to get back to the abbey. Besides, she had a great deal to think about, and it would be easier to do that thinking somewhere where Brielle's dark eyes weren't watching her.


End file.
